About Face
by Grace Harney
Summary: A documentary film-maker bites off more than she can chew when she starts making a documentary about the Joker, cultivating an obsession that leads her into danger, even with Batman's warning. THREE-part story. Thanks for reading. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: This is just a short story. There is going to be one more part after this. I wrote this after watching a whole bunch of Batman The Animated Series (the 'revamped' ones) and well, this storyline is somewhat similar to the half-hour shows. Consise and to the point. When I wrote it I pictured the characters in the animated series. It's really hard for me to do short stories. I hope you like it. _

_**About-Face**_

_**Part I**_

I was in my cubicle, Friday night, searching through confidential police files. I had been given limited access for a temporary time so I could have some facts with which to work. The whole office floor was pretty quiet right now, given that the time was after hours. My eyes stung from dryness because of staring at the computer screen for hours on end. I hadn't even eaten lunch. Not even a potato chip or a garlic crouton. I could hear the squeaky wheel of the building janitor's trolley. They would close up the building in about another hour.

Not completely standing up, I looked over the wall of my cubicle and saw that the majority of the lights were off, casting the floor into semi-darkness. "Hello?" I called out.

"Hi," the janitor called from somewhere else.

"How long are you going to be?"

"About an hour."

"Okay."

I sat back down and continued to search. But these files didn't turn up anything I didn't actually know. In fact, the psychiatric hospital had been more helpful as far as finding out personal information. They did house him and feed him and medicate him. Well, they tried the last thing, anyway. All my information said that medications didn't work on him. He had some sort of immunity. I recalled a story that one of the doctors told me, about how one day they continued to up the dosage on his sedative, until he had about ten times the normal dose in him. To use the doctor's words, he showed "not one droopy eyelid. Not one yawn."

I exited the police files and adjusted my lamp to make it face the walls of my cubicle. I had posted a lot of _inspirational _pictures. Some were also crime scene photos. My largest one was a police photograph of him flashing a wide, maniacal grin, his hair a patchy, grass green and his face smeared with white, black and red. It looked like he had been in a scuffle and been disheveled. But he glowed like he'd won the battle. Yet here he was, holding an inmate number over his chest and blazing brightly at the camera. This particular photo was from the Gotham City Police Department. For all the brazen grotesqueness of his mouth, his eyes all but disappeared into the black makeup surrounding them. They were barely visible, and that was the thing that made this photo imperfect. I wished I could just see them, what color they were, some semblance of humanity. Perhaps his pupils contracted in bright light, perhaps they dilated under stress and fear. Perhaps a tear or two streaked down over his cheek, if not from sadness then perhaps from pain.

I was lost in my thoughts. So when someone knocked at my cubicle, I practically fell out of my chair. I was rattled and spun around.

Ron's lip twitched apologetically. "Sorry. Working late again?"

I sighed. "Uh-huh. I'm almost done though."

"I thought I'd find you here. I left hours ago. We're all going out for a few drinks and pizza. Carmen, why don't you join us?"

I glanced again at the police photo of the Joker. "I can't. I'm getting my things ready to go to Gotham City for a couple of weeks. Two more days and I'm leaving."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you're still thinking about doing _that_."

I knew what he was talking about. '_That'_ didn't mean actually going to Gotham. _'That' _meant trying to get an exclusive from _him_.

I glared at Ron. "Yes, _that_. I'm going to do it. No one knows anything about this guy. I want to find out. He's just another person!"

"Listen, even their great Batman can't even figure anything out about him. What makes you think you can?"

I narrowed my eyes. "Are you suggesting that I'm too stupid?"

Ron shrugged. "No. Just that Batman is really smart."

"Oh please!" I scoffed. "He's some weirdo that dresses up in a bat costume, and swings around the skyscrapers like he thinks he's Tarzan. He's almost as bad as that brute in blue tights. Superman? At least he's actually got something to back up the hype. What does Batman have? A couple of smoke grenades and a fancy car?"

"As opposed to a lunatic with some face paints and green hair dye, and a wild agenda to throw Gotham City into complete chaos?"

I clicked closed some windows on my monitor and turned off my computer. "I didn't say he was better or anything," I said sullenly.

"You're not going to get an exclusive. He's a fugitive for the rest of his life. The last I heard he was on the run with his shrink. What was her name?"

"Harleen Quinzel," I replied. "I looked her up too. When she was about fourteen she was admitted at Gotham General for psychiatric treatment. She has some kind of weird obsessive-bipolar complex. I forget what it's called. Apparently she caught her boyfriend cheating on her. His defense was that she was too clingy. Then she tried to kill the girl. So they admitted her."

"Why don't you do an exclusive on Batman?"

I shook my head distastefully. "Who cares about him? I think he's really foolish to try and be a hero when there are already cops doing their job. What about if he gets into real trouble? Is Gotham P.D. supposed to risk its neck trying to save him?"

Ron shrugged. "He's their problem. If you ask me, they should label _him_ a wanted man and cart him off to the nearest psychiatric facility. Anyone who dresses up like a bat and pretends he's a superhero needs to be under constant supervision." Ron paused and looked at me pointedly. "But hey, at least he wouldn't hurt you."

"Batman never interested me as a candidate for an exclusive interview." I stood up and picked up a stack of fat binders off my desk. Ron immediately stuck his hands out. "Let me help you. What the hell is all this stuff?"

I heaved them into Ron's hands and gave a short sigh. "Information on the Joker."

Ron laughed as he stepped aside for me to exit my cubicle. "Do any of these thousands of pages say what his name is?"

"Very funny. It's really frustrating. No one knows anything."

"Maybe you should wait until they catch him again." Ron's face was grim all of a sudden. "This guy is really not funny. He's dangerous."

"Well, I'm only going for two weeks," I said, feeling Ron's anxiety seep into my body. He was right, actually. The Joker _was_ dangerous. "I still have to talk to the doctors at Arkham, Gotham City Police Department, Harleen's family members, witnesses, victims. This is just the beginning."

**********************************

I was sitting at the Residence Inn, in my room. We had been in Gotham for about a week now, collecting valuable information for our documentary. I was placing labels on our disks and making notes. There was no breaking news about another attack by the Joker, and I had not seen any recent footage caught of Batman either. I had brought along all of my photographs, and taped them to the head of my bed. But I had put the pillow at the foot of the bed so I could see the pictures before I went to sleep. It helped me keep my focus. But while I did that, I knew I was going a step too far. Both my editor and cameraman had told me I was taking this too seriously. I was putting too much energy into it, and my editor had told me that I actually looked like I had lost a little bit of weight. I brushed it off and told her she was imagining things, but a quick sneak onto the scale told me she had a good eye.

I had an appointment at a Dr. Charles Hernandez's office in about an hour. He had agreed to give me some time to ask him questions. He was one of the few unfortunate people who had actually been injured while on duty at Arkham. He had almost been strangled to death, but apparently the Joker's intent was never to kill him. While contained in a strait-jacket - well, so they thought - Dr. Hernandez had been in a routine session with the Joker, who had miraculously torn free of the jacket and tried to strangle the doctor with it. Security was usually pretty lax when a patient was in a jacket, and this was no exception. Of course, it was common knowledge that anyone who encountered the Joker usually underestimated him, and those doctors and guards were no different.

My stomach gave a small lurch when I thought about whether I would get to meet him. Maybe I should wait until my next trip to Gotham City to try to contact him. Maybe by then he would be in custody and I would be somewhat safe. Safer than practically broadcasting the fact that I was doing research on him.

I started to get dressed, wearing casual-formal clothes and light make up around my hazel eyes and on my plump lips. My hair was a dark burgundy with red highlights, brushing the flats of my shoulders. I told my tiny filming crew to be ready at nine. We were going to do the interview and then head out for some dinner.

My bathroom was sort of half in and half out of the bedroom. The tub and the toilet were in a room, but the sink and mirror were a part of the bedroom, like a kitchenette.

My room had two entries. There was the door and there was the glass sliding door leading to a cramped balcony. Since I had been in Gotham, I had been spending about an hour at night on the balcony, looking for Batman or his jet fleeting between buildings or over the smoky night sky. No such luck since I'd been here.

So, after I was ready, I stepped out onto the balcony again, searching for anything interesting. I found nothing, as expected. Gotham was a lot more boring than it's reputation suggested. Slightly disgusted, I turned to go back inside, expecting any second for either people in my crew to knock on my door.

But what I got was the shock of my life. I gave a horrified gasp, and almost fell over the edge of the balcony. He was the tallest man I had seen in a long time, towering about foot over my head, the points on his cowl making him even taller. He just stood there like a demon in a cloak, his broad jaw set in a hard line. I had a hand over my heart, feeling it drum in my chest. I also clutched the railing of the balcony for dear life even though my feet were securely planted down. I glared up at his mask, at the white slits. "What. Do you. Think, you're _doing_?"

"Funny. I was going to ask you the same thing."

"I haven't done anything." Then my voice became sarcastic, since I was still angry at being so taken by surprise. "Shouldn't you be after criminals? Or are you just attacking innocent people now?"

"I came to warn you," he replied calmly, completely ignoring the slight I made.

I slowly released the railing and took a deep breath to steady myself. "About what? Yourself?"

Again he ignored my sarcasm. "You're asking questions about the wrong man. You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

"How do you know any of this?"

He turned and walked into my room. Inspite of myself, I caught a good glimpse of a portion of his calf, noting the muscles bulging through the fabric. He glided towards my phone and picked up something from under it. He showed it to me with a gloved hand parting his cape. "Stop what you're doing. It's only a matter of time before he learns about you. If he feels like it, he might come after you. Some things are better left unexplored."

I had completely stopped listening. I glared acrimoniously at the tiny device in his hand, a bat-shaped microphone. "You've been..._spying_ on me!"

He looked at my wall, above my bed.

I grabbed his shoulder and tried to spin him around to face me. I failed of course, this man was a Goliath. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

He stared for several moments at the police photo of the Joker, apparently thinking.

"Answer me you jerk!"

He slowly turned to look at me. "I've already warned you."

"This is my job! I've got bills to pay! That's what _normal_ people do!"

There was a knock on my door. "Carmen? Is everything okay?"

I turned instinctively at the sudden distraction, but quickly turned back when I felt a weak gust of air.

He was already gone.

_----------------------------_

_To be concluded..._


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: I know this part is sort of long, but it's full of action so I don't think it would be a problem. I know I said it was going to be a two-part story, but it was starting to get way too long. So I'm going to make it three parts. Told you I was horrible at short stories. _

_**About-Face**_

_**Part II**_

"Carmen? Carmen! Open the door!"

I stood rigid, my hands clenched into fists, staring out of the balcony door. The curtains flapped now and then in the breeze, and felt cool against my hot face.

"Carmen!"

I finally turned and opened the door, staring right through my editor.

"Oh my God, what happened?"

I finally focused my blazing eyes on her. "Batman happened."

My editor lit up and hurried into the room. "He was here?" She looked around eagerly. "Why?"

"We'll talk about this later."

"Oh, come on. I know you don't like him but--"

"No. I _hate_ him. He was spying on me! He had a little bug in my room for who knows how long! He plucked it off my phone and showed it to me! The nerve of that guy!"

"Sorry I'm late!" Came a voice from the door. It was my cameraman. "What guy are you talking about?"

I scowled. "Batman."

My cameraman was even more ecstatic. "No way! He was here? In your room?"

"Yes! He was here!" I snarled. "Can we go now?"

"Okay, okay. Let's go. I'm sure the doctor won't be happy if we're late."

As we left the building I could have sworn I heard my editor say, "We should do the documentary on _him_ instead."

******************************

Our interview with Dr. Hernandez went very well, and the man seemed intent on telling his story and also, off camera, gave us a very clear warning that the Joker was not one with whom to fool around. As elfin as his behavior was sometimes, mischievous and harmless, there was no telling when that behavior would become life-threatening. Dr. Hernandez had been hospitalized after his ordeal for two days, and his larynx had been damaged. He had been unable to talk for almost a month. Now, his voice was still somewhat scratchy, probably a permanent change. He offered us some photographs of the injury, stressing that we must mention the degree of danger this man contained within himself.

I was definitely distracted by my prior fury towards Batman, but I was used to being stressed out while working, and contained it well. On the car ride back to the hotel however, I was a different person. I was tense and my anger returned and started to mount. The last thing I needed was for either of them to ask me about my encounter with Batman. But that's precisely what I got. My editor said, "What exactly happened? Are you going to add this to your documentary?"

I glared at her, but she was not fazed. She glanced at me from the driver's seat of the rental car. "Come on," she said placatingly. "It would be an amazing twist. The Great Batman coming to warn you about your work."

"No," I said firmly.

My cameraman sat in the back, with all his recording equipment. "I think she's right. It would be a good idea."

"I'm not going to give him more fame than he already has. Look at you guys. He's not a rockstar. He's a vigilante. And not a very good one. Who spies on people, _really_? Even the cops hardly do that! He needs to be arrested for invasion of privacy. The first thing I'm going to do when I get back is search that room for any other bugs." Then a thought occured to me. "Oh, God, what if he's got a camera?"

"I don't think he has time to be a pervert," my editor said. Her voice was a tad dreamy.

"Well it's not like you'd care, would you?" I demanded to my editor. "You're practically drooling all over him."

"What did he look like?"

I sighed. My cameraman echoed the question. I decided to give up and answer. "He looked like... I don't know. I was on my balcony, and I turned and there he was. Like he'd appeared out of nowhere. I don't know how such a big guy can be so quiet."

"How tall is he?"

"Maybe about six feet one or two. Those pointy things on his mask made him about two or three inches taller."

"I think you should get on camera and talk about it. It would be great for the documentary."

"No way. I'm not doing that. I can't stand that guy."

"I'm going to tell the producers."

"No! You absolutely can't breath a word about it."

"Why, because they'll think it's a great idea too?"

"No one is going to talk about Batman!" I almost shouted. Then I exhaled sharply. "Except the Joker. If he wants to."

"You're not seriously considering talking to that psycho are you?" My editor asked, exhasperated.

"Of course I am. He has a story too."

"I don't think anyone cares."

"_I_ care. It's my documentary. And the first thing I'm going to do is search my room."

********************************

Back at the hotel, I spent about thirty minutes carefully checking the bathroom and all the furniture for more bugs. I found nothing. I even checked under the bed. If I had found a camera I think I would have lost my mind.

When I was finished, I changed my clothes and laid down on my bed. I turned on the TV and started to watch the news. Something about a hostage situation in a downtown, high class Chinese restaurant. The news reporter started to talk about how many people were inside and that the demands of the perpetrators were as yet unknown. I continued to watch as they showed footage that the criminals had filmed as they had taken over the restaurant, gathering employees in one group and patrons in another. I noticed that the men were wearing monstrous masks that looked intrinsically Asian in style, and black, tight-fitting clothes. They all touted automatic weapons.

The news reporter returned and repeated the same information she had given earlier - she was filming Live - and then while she was On-Air, she received a message that the captors had given their demands. The screen switched to a video of one of the masked men, who stated calmly that they wanted the release of someone called, Wenyang Li, from Blackgate Prison, in return for the safety of the hostages. Otherwise, every thirty minutes, starting from ten-thirty p.m., one person would be killed with a shot to the back of the head.

In less than a few minutes from the initial demands message, there was already a SWAT team surrounding the building. I watched as they continued to switch back and forth from the videos they had already shown to the reporter repeating all of the current information.

As this was going on, a few searches on my laptop revealed that Wenyang Li was a member of the Triads, a local leader who had been captured by Batman three years ago. When the jury had found him guilty on all charges, and an appeal had been denied, a hostage situation was the apparent result, and their last resort.

As the reporter bounced on the spot a little - her nose was red from the cold night - all the lights in the restaurant went off. She turned to look and the camera moved up towards the roof of the building. I saw a shadow fleet across the roof, and as a beam of light moved up towards the Chinese style roof, the shadow was gone. The reporter turned back to the camera as it refocused on her and she said quickly, her eyes gleaming, "We're going back to watch that video again..."

I knew it was Batman. His element of surprise was probably ruined, especially if they had a television inside the restaurant. As much as I despised him right now, I did hope that they didn't have a TV inside, and that he would be able to sneak in and do some damage. But then again, all the lights had gone off, so perhaps that was the electricity getting cut off.

I returned my eyes to the laptop screen and started to read a little bit more about Mr. Li. As I started going over all the counts on which he had been found guilty, there was a knock on my door. I thought it was probably one of the people in my crew, coming back to convince me to add Batman to my documentary. But it wasn't. "House-keeping!" A female's annoying, sing-song voice came through the door.

I frowned. _ At this time of night? _"Come back later!"

There was another knock. "House-keeping!"

"I said come back later!"

She knocked a lot harder this time. "_House-keeping!" _The lady screamed, her voice nasal and screeching like nails on a chalkboard.

I jumped off my bed and threw open the door. "Are you deaf?" I demanded angrily.

Before I even got a good look at her face, she rammed the cart into me, forcing me deeper into the room. I stumbled back, and held the edge of the cart to keep from falling. "What the--?"

When I regained my balance and looked at her face properly, I noticed she had a black domino mask stuck to her skin. She wore a black and white maid outfit, but under it was a long sleeve of red and black. On her head was a maid's cap, barely containing her jester hat. "Oh my God," I said as horror suddenly dawned on me.

"_**House-keeping**__!" _She shrieked again and pulled a giant wooden mallet out of the cart, swinging. I had time only to turn away and raise my hands. Not that it did anything, and the slightly cushioned mallet made hard, blunt contact with the left side of my face. I saw flashes of white and flew a foot or two to the side, and fell next to the TV. Momentarily stunned, I couldn't move at all. I felt footsteps on the carpet, and I turned hazily to look at her.

"Ahhh! Look Puddin'! It's a rat!" She cried jubilantly, rounding the cart and raising the mallet over her grinning head.

I could see her black shoes and up her skirt a little, revealing more of her skin-tight, red and black outfit.

"Harley, why don't you save your, extermination services for a more... dangerous, pest?" The voice was cold and humorless, even though it was just delivering a joke. It sent a chill through me just to hear it. Then I realized that it wasn't just cold, but merciless, which was far worse. I grunted with effort as I pushed myself into a sitting position.

The Joker stood with his elbow propped on the cart, and his chin in his hand. He grinned, and I couldn't see how someone could grin so widely without being in pain. "Hello, Sweets! Wakey-wakey!"

I sat, swaying a little, my vision clearing. I felt my jaw already swelling. I moved a hand to my jaw, and winced at the pain. My fingertips were cold against my cheek, which was burning hot from the injury. I tasted blood in my mouth. My teeth had cut the inside of my mouth.

Harley Quinn pulled her maid uniform off and dusted herself off. There was not a flaw on that body, and at what was probably an inappropriate time, I felt a twinge of jealousy. My stomach wasn't nearly so firm, and my legs were not nearly so muscular. Harley matched her partner in exuberance and rested the mallet on her shoulder like a jolly woodcutter with an axe.

The Joker shut the door with his leg, without looking, and stood to his full height. He was about as tall as Batman, and just as scary. And this room was brightly lit. He came nearer and extended a heavily veined hand with long fingers and white skin. "Let me help you up," he smiled, nodding. His voice was full of laughter, because he was smiling all the time.

I just sat there on the floor.

After a few moments the Joker gave an exaggerated sigh. "Now don't be rude." He fixed his purple coat, adjusted his tie and smoothed his green hair back. "I don't think you understand the...privilege, that I am offering you."

"This is Mista J," Harley said earnestly. "Have some respect!"

The Joker walked closer to Harley and looked at her quizzically. "Maybe we should just leave, Harley. I don't think she's interested." The Joker shook his head, suddenly looking truly sorrowful and puzzled. "I don't understand. I thought she'd be happy to see me."

Harley threw her arms around him. "_I'm_ happy to see you!"

Much to my surprise, he pushed her off violently. "Get off me!" She gave a squeal and went flying onto my bed, knocking my laptop to the side. The mallet thudded to the floor. Then he shook his head again, appearing merely annoyed, when his action told me he was furious.

The Joker came nearer and extended his hand again. I looked at it, then at his face. He smiled again, but only with his mouth. I reached a trembling hand up and before I took his hand, he grabbed mine.

I tried to scream as a jolt of electricity shot down my arm and into my body. I felt my back arch and he didn't let go. My voice wasn't working and every muscle in my body spasmed. I couldn't even breathe.

After what seemed like several minutes, he finally let go. I released a pent up scream and gasped for breath. My hand ached and burned at the same time. He was cackling like a maniac, pretending to wipe away tears of laughter. "Works every time!"

Shaking uncontrollably, I finally made an attempt to stand up, but my legs were weak and collapsed under me.

The Joker was doubling up in laughter, his voice probably loud enough for my filming crew to hear. This gave me some comfort. With a quivering voice I finally spoke: "I just... I just want to ask you some questions."

The Joker looked irritated that I interrupted his monologue of laughter, but didn't bother with correcting me for it. "Questions?" He put on a look of puzzlement, then nodded. "Yes, you have been asking too many."

I tried another approach. "Don't you want to tell the world your story?"

He laughed like I'd said something funny. "I tell them my story all the time. They just don't understand."

"I'd like to understand," I said nervously, failing to sound truly sincere.

The Joker drooped his shoulders dramatically. He threw his hands up into the air. "Oh! The tragedy of it all!" He dropped to his knees. "How many times must a man tell his story again and again until someone listens?"

"I'm listening," I said, more intently this time.

He was on his hands and knees and he punched the side of his fist into the ground. He looked at me. "Not yet you're not," he said. His voice was the most calm it had been since he had entered.

"Would you be more comfortable on camera?"

He sat down and folded his legs. Then he looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "You don't kill a rat with a bug zapper. You kill it with rat poison."

Harley gave a sudden hoot of laughter. She laughed so hard she fell of the bed. After a soft, "_Oof!", _she continued to laugh. I couldn't see her anymore.

"Bring her with you, Harl."

Harley jumped up and stood rigid in a goofy military attention stance. She saluted the Joker. Then she looked at me. "Okey-dokey, Mista J!"

I was still weakened by my electrocution, and Harley had no problem over-powering me. In fact, she felt supernaturally strong to me. She had muscular legs, but her arms were normal and slender, at most, a little wiry. I didn't understand how she could catch my flailing arms and keep a good grip on them.

I gave a couple of screams and wondered why neither my cameraman, nor my editor came to help. I felt more panicked, and was able to let out one final scream before Harley stuff a piece of a hotel towel into my mouth.

"Put the dirty laundry in the bin, Harley. Let's go."

To my utter horror, Harley lifted me off the floor and tossed me into the empty laundry bag that was suspended on the cleaning cart. Seated in the bag in a fetal position, I gave a muffled scream. "Ah, quit your complainin'," Harley disappeared and returned with the mallet. She dropped it on me.

The Joker looked inside the laundry bag at me and flashed a toothy smile. "Your friends are a riot. That's more than I can say for you."

He must have seen the worry on my face, because he threw his head back and laughed. "Don't worry. They just got the joke. Would you like to see? I'll bet they're still rolling with laughter."

They shut the laundry bag lid and the cart moved along a little. Then it stopped and the lid was opened again. I heard some quiet giggles. Harley tugged me up so I could see out of the bag, and I saw both my cameraman and editor tied back to back, with gags in their mouths. But they were laughing uncontrollably, and when they saw me they just started laughing harder.

As Harley pushed me back down into the bag, the Joker said, "They'll miss the show, but don't worry. I wouldn't let that happen to you."

Something told me this was one show I could live without. And die with.

When the lid was shut, I realized with a jolt that Batman was already somewhere else. He wasn't going to save me.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: I should have added this to the last chapter, but yes, this is the Animated Series Joker, the Mark Hamill masterpiece. Please think of his voice when you're reading. I was thinking of it while I was writing. Of course, Harley Quinn's voice is also from the Animated Series (I don't remember the lady's name), and who can do Batman's voice better than Kevin Conroy? _

_Longest chapter yet. Last one though. Enjoy!_

_**About-Face**_

_**Part III**_

I wasn't removed from the cart the entire time. I felt myself being pushed up a metal ramp, and then I heard a truck start. After a while, as I struggled to get free of my bonds, the truck stopped and the engine shut off. I was wheeling over rough ground and then onto ground that felt too smooth to be outside. I was inside a building.

I heard an elevator and after some more moving around, the lid opened again. I had broken into a sweat, and my hair was matted to my head and my nape. My skin was clammy and I was trembling as Harley tugged me out of the bag. "Welcome to my humble home," he said, feigning somberness, and bowed down at the ninety-degree angle. She made me sit in a comfortable lazyboy and tied me to the chair. Then he nodded, pleased. "Best seat in the house."

The room was full of grey tones, with pipes lining the rooms and going up the walls and through the ceiling. It looked like a makeshift apartment with no more than two or three pieces of furniture and several stacks of old newspaper everywhere.

My mouth was dry, and I tried to swallow, but just ended up coughing.

Harley disappeared behind me and the Joker came closer and pulled the piece of towel out of my mouth. "As I was saying before," he began, and sat on my lap. He was quite heavy, but didn't seem to notice and acted like he weighed no more than a large stuffed animal. "You don't kill a rat with a bug zapper!" He slapped his forehead. "What was I _thinking_?"

I felt sick and my stomach started to ache from the fear. "What do you want?"

He looked at me with dark eyes, clouded with confusion. Then he brightened. "You kill a rat with rat poison!"

"But why are you talking about that?"

He got off my lap, and I felt blood rushing back to where he had been sitting. "I was hoping you'd be smart enough to figure it out. I guess I'll just have to _show_ you! Let me tell you a story."

"No," I said. I knew there was no end to 'the story'. I would be dead before he finished, so there was no need for an end. "Tell me _your_ story."

He shook his head. "You'd never understand. Unless..."

"Unless!" Harley chirped suddenly, making me flinch. She was right behind me and she reached her hands down and slapped an oxygen mask on my face. But I was sure the mask was not connected to an oxygen _tank._ I shook my head hard but the mask didn't move. "What are you doing?!" I demanded, my voice finally no longer under my control. It was high and panicked, and my chest started to heave. "Get this off me!"

I suddenly heard a gentle, steady hissing sound. Both Harley and the Joker were silent. The room was filled with the sound. "Get it off!" I shrieked, shaking my head hard enough to sprain my neck.

"If I did that you'll never understand the story."

"Get it off! Let me go!" I started to throw my whole body into the effort of getting free, if only to escape the mask, the ominous hissing that I knew was releasing noxious gas into my face. But there was nothing I could do to stop it.

Then I took another breath and felt a wave of a tingling, cool sensation sweep my brain. I held my breath. I held it as long as I could. But of course I couldn't hold it forever. So after a _very_ short while, I sucked in a breath of gas and felt that cool feeling intensify in my sinuses. My vision blurred and cleared, blurred and cleared. Then I took another breath, feeling a little whoozy. This time a giggle passed my lips. I wasn't fighting it at first, but when I giggled I started to. But the more I tried to go against the urge the more I giggled.

Even my hearing was starting to get muffled. I didn't hear Harley and the Joker laughing until I looked at them.

The Joker leaned in towards my ear. "Now you're _finally_ getting it!"

When he spoke I screamed a laugh. I had no control. Internally I was horrified, and if I tried to speak or scream or cry it was all just laughter. I couldn't stop. I fought for control and failed miserably.

Through the growing fog in my vision, I saw a red and black figure - Harley - appear from my peripheral and shove what looked like a video camera in my face. "Smile for the camera! Oops! You already are! Ahahaha!"

I gasped for breath, and my body wouldn't let me breath properly. If this was to go on much longer I would die of laughter. My sides started to hurt and I squirmed through my bodily spasms and cramps to get air. The only air I got was the gas. Finally the Joker ripped the mask off and I just barely heard the hissing stop.

I continued to suck in air to fuel my crazy laughter.

"Can't have you losing consciousness. That won't be good for ratings at all."

I moaned in pain, but then cackled again.

In a swirl of colors like a mirage over a steaming hot tarmac, he swooped in front of my face. "Let me tell you my story, now," he said seriously.

"Oh boy, story time!" Harley squealed and jumped onto my lap. I giggled. She waved the camera around and put it right in my face as I turned away, chest heaving with laughter.

"Once upon a time there was a poor old fellow that just wanted a little money. A touch of fame and a place to call home." The Joker then grabbed Harley's jester hat and yanked it hard. "Then it was all ruined by a terror in a batsuit!"

I didn't mean to right then, and I couldn't help it. But an obscenely loud guffaw burst out of me. Harley gave a little scream, and looked at the Joker fearfully.

He looked furious for a moment, then joined me in laughing. "I guess that _is_ funny. Hahahaha!!!"

Harley joined in easily once she saw that the Joker was laughing too, but as I continued to choke with cackles, my sides aching something awful, the Joker's face darkened. He stopped laughing, and his face became a brooding shimmer of white, red and black. He looked at me, his eyes dancing because of my distorted vision.

I noticed that abnormal look. That is, it was abnormal for _him_. He pulled up a metal folding chair and sat down in front of me. He looked around and grabbed the nearest thing - a folded up newspaper - and rolled it up. He pointed it at me like a microphone. "Are you getting this, Harley?"

"Every frame, Mista J," she squeaked eagerly.

"I'm sure old Batsy wouldn't want to miss _this_ special documentary."

That stuff he had gassed me with was starting to wear off a little. I gasped and grimaced, forcing myself to talk through the chuckles. "Let... me go."

"Oohhehehahaha! But everyone wants to be the star of their own show! So tell me," he began seriously, "what got you interested in this whole... reporting business?"

"Please..."

The Joker pointed the newspaper at himself. "Oh! _Do_ continue!"

"Let...m-me go."

"How fascinating! Don't you think so, Harley?"

"Oooh yeah!"

"Do you think it's a violation when someone asks too many questions about you? Do you think they're being nosy?"

"I won't... I'll stop..."

"Myself, personally, well, I don't like it when people try to sneak around and find out things about me. I think it's underhanded and deceptive. Don't you think so?"

"I'm sorry! I'll stop, I swear. I'll destroy everything." I was gaining more control over my body now, and the giggles were fading away.

Joker apparently noticed this too, and he looked at Harley. Leaning in conspiratorially, with a hand over his mouth, he said lowly, "Gas her again, she's not fun anymore."

Harley tossed him the camera and he continued to film me. As she disappeared from the view the Joker leaned to the side so he could look at her. "Nice view, Baby!"

"Oooh, stop! You're making me blush!"

The hissing started again. "Nooo!" I moaned. "Let me go!"

Joker fixed my mask and made it tighter. The gas started to have to desired effect on me again, and soon I was lost to hysterical laughter again. Harley turned off the gas, and the hissing stopped.

"Enough of that and you'll die happy!" He let out a whoop of joy and said, "That's my present to you for being _such _a dedicated fan of my work!"

"No...." I panted.

Abruptly, the all the lights went out.

The glow of the camera screen reflected of Joker's face, giving him an eerie, blue tinge. His face grew very annoyed at the sudden change. "Oh brother, doesn't anyone pay the bills around here?"

All of us - well I tried anyway - grew completely quiet as there was a thump outside. But we were floors up, so the only explanation was that it was on the fire escape. Then I heard glass breaking.

"Aaaah!" Harley squeaked. I heard some clattering behind me and a soft click. It was a flashlight turning on, and the beam quivered wildly around the room and came to rest on a dark, hunched shadow. "Aah! Puddin' save me! It's a monster!"

The Joker was already looking, and when he spoke he sounded furious. "You're not supposed to _be _here!"

I blinked a little to clear my vision and finally recognized the shadow as Batman. I shuddered with a chortle. "Help me..."

"Always trying to ruin my show, aren't you?" The Joker demanded angrily, then turned to face me. "Do you see what I have to put up with? Always getting picked on by this big, self-righteous, _ugly_, humorless bully!"

"Let her go now. You've made your point." Batman's voice was low and unenergetic. I was not sure what was wrong with him, but while Joker had been raving Harley had done something to set up a dim, battery powered light. I cast a long shadow over the length of the room, and Batman's shadow loomed over the wall behind him. I squinted and looked closer, and was shocked to find that Batman's suit was actually torn on several places and there was a trail of blood on his chin.

The Joker went closer, camera trained on Batman. Batman moved away cautiously, his cape swaying with him. The Joker scanned the camera over his body, and stopped at his midriff. "It's so hard to get good help these days. All those men and they couldn't all keep you just a little bit longer. They didn't even have to keep you all night. Just while I took care of a little infestation." He looked pointedly at me.

"They tried their best."

The Joker turned back to Batman. "I even told them, gave them my _word_ that you'd show up. Bunch of useless pawns." He shook his head. "I plan the ambush and they carry it out. That was the idea, anyway," the Joker added musingly. "Apparently it only works in theory."

Batman moved this way and that, keeping his distance from the Joker. "Enough. Let her go."

"No," the Joker said icily. "I'm not finished." He straightened and beckoned without looking. "Harley, I think it's time for the exterminator's services to finally show up."

"Righta-roonie! Here I come!"

The Joker backed away as Harley finally came into view, this time, holding a large gun with a very wide barrel. She aimed and fired right at Batman who crouched in time to avoid being hit with the projectile, but it was nothing but a ball that smacked sharply into the wall and fell to the floor, bouncing like a golfball and sounding about the same. Batman apparently knew what it was and dove to the side just as it blew up. He thudded to a spot across the room, and the Joker staggered back a little. "Harley! Careful with that thing!"

"I'm sorry!"

The Joker went to her and snatched the gun away. "What have I told you about playing with explosives?"

She scratched her head. "Um. Safety last?"

The Joker laughed. "That's right! Here you go!" He tossed her the weapon back.

She flashed him a grin and winked. Then looked mischievously at Batman, who was still on the floor. He was obviously trying to get back up, but wasn't. I couldn't shake the horrible thought. _What have I done?_

_Get up, get up! _I kept begging. Finally I sighed as he did. He turned around and although part of his face was covered up, he looked _mad_. His teeth were gritted together and his hands were clenched into fists. The Joker tossed Harley the camera, and she caught it clumsily. She threw the Joker the gun and he aimed it at _me._

"No!" Just as Batman cried out the Joker fired it at the floor right my feet. I screamed at the ball hit the floor. I already knew the explosion was going to be delayed, so I turned my head away and squeezed my eyes shut.

"Toodles!" The Joker cried happily. I heard a series of clatters and then rolling - like someone dropping marbles on a hard floor - where I remembered the Joker standing. I didn't dare open my eyes to see what it was.

I waited for what seemed like an eternity, and I felt someone jump on me. My eyes shot open. I was enveloped in darkness, and I felt the warmth of a human body. My chair slid back a little from the weight with which he had thrown his body over me.

I looked up and saw a flash of light. My chair flew back some more and flipped onto it's back. I knew it was Batman who jumped onto me to shield me, and he groaned in pain. I gave a little scream, and he got off me and pulled a blade out of his boot. He cut me free of the chair - but my hands were still tied behind my back - and yanked me to my feet. "Let's go," he said hoarsely. He practically dragged me to the window and shoved me out onto the fire escape.

I heard another, popping explosion, like a fire cracker. Then another pop. And another. Batman jumped out and pulled out a gun, which I realized quickly was a grappel hook when he fired it down at an angle. It grew taut when the hook caught on something and he wrapped his arm around my waist. "No, wait!" I cried out as he tugged me along with him and jumped over the edge of the fire escape as the pops started to sound out all at the same time and sounded like one huge explosion. A blast of hot air hit me, and I gave a shriek as I felt myself falling with him. We both landed clumsily on the ground outside, and much to my surprise, it was coated with a layer of white snow. There were still flakes drifting gently down and cold spots touched my face. I wasn't dressed for the cold - I was just wearing pajamas - and soon I started to shiver. I was sure the gas I had breathed in had something to do with me feeling so cold so quickly.

On my right, Batman stood back up after we hit the ground and he wiped the blood away from his chin. He cut my wrists free.

My shoulders ached from being in an uncomfortable position for so long, and I moved my fingers to start the bloodflow again. "I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you."

He shook his head. "By the time I came to warn you it was already too late."

I opened my mouth to speak again but I heard distant sirens. I looked to my left, the direction of the sirens. I heard footsteps crunching the snow behind me, and he was gone. Again. Since I was still sitting, I noticed a blemish on the smooth snow. Dark drops and spotches of blood stained the whiteness. A trail continued around the building.

As the sirens grew louder I stood up and followed it. It stopped at the wall of the building. I looked up and didn't see any more blood. He was gone.

***************************************

Two days later I was in my hospital room, suffering from some inflammation in my throat and severe migranes. All of it brought on by the gas, which they still could not identify. I was not hooked up to anything anymore, although earlier in the day I had been. They just periodically checked my heart rate and gave me anti-inflammatories and pain meds for my headache.

I hadn't gotten to the point of having nightmares, but I was sure I would.

I stood up and went to my window - it was open a small crack - and looked down at the hospital parking lot. I was two floors up, and I gasped when I saw a rope fall down, right outside my window. I backed away a little, afraid of what was going to happen. I rushed to the side of my bed and grappled for the nurse button. I was about to press it when my window slid open. It was Batman.

He stepped inside smoothly, looking a lot better than I had seen him two days ago. His suit was no longer torn and his face was clear of blood. He took out something and put it on my bedside table.

"You scared me."

"I didn't think you wanted this publicized," he said lowly.

I looked at the item he had placed down. It was a miniature video cassette. "Is this...?"

He nodded. "Yes." He turned back to the window and was about to leave when I said, "Wait!"

He stopped but didn't turn around.

I went closer. "Thank you. You saved my life."

"This time," he said grimly. "Next time you may not be so lucky."

"There won't be a next time, believe me."

He gave a single nod and jumped out. I saw him scale up the building and then he was gone.

I knew what my documentary was going to be about now. A fool who didn't listen.

-------------------

_Author's Note: I just had to add "Righta-roonie!" in there. I saw it in one of the newer Animated Series episodes. It's so Harley, and it fits perfectly in the scene. _

_Hope you enjoyed the story!_


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